Oh, What Fools We Mortals Be
by Wijida
Summary: Deals with a Catherine quote from "Pledging Mr. Johnson". Regarding Grissom knowing that Eddie had been cheating on her...


Oh, What Fools We Mortals Be

By Manda

_                **Catherine**: "When Eddie was cheating on me, I sure wish someone would have said something."_

_                **Grissom**: "You mean me?"_

_                **Catherine:** "Who else?"_

~~~~~~~~~

When he found her, it was past the end of shift, the burning globe of Nevada sun just beginning to make its assent over the distant mountains. He had discovered Catherine Willows in the layout room, her upper body tensed over various odds and ends littering the illuminated surface, from folded T-shirts to bloody staples arranged in neatly labeled evidence pouches. Her delicate, manicured fingernails tapped idly against a sheaf of papers to her right, while her left hand scribbled names and numbers onto a lined paper. As absorbed as she was in her task, she never acknowledged Grissom's stealthy entrance into the room.

                "Catherine?" At the sound of her name, the ballpoint pen flung from Catherine's grip and rolled onto the floor. The clatter of the object was masked, however, by her sharp intake of breath. 

                "Jesus, Grissom!" Her eyes widened in astonishment at the unexpected company, and she wearily swept the heel of her palm over a forehead rife with consentration creases. After a moment, she leaned back, eyes as blue as the sun-struck ocean regarding him with scorn.  He couldn't remember a moment when her eyes, her face…had ever been more beautiful. And to kill that beauty, to take it away…in his mind, any man would be a fool.

                _Oh, what fools we mortals be._

                "Grissom?"He snapped out of his reverie to find her staring at him intently, head tilted and short strawberry hair swinging limply over her right eye. "Grissom, what is it?"

                Grissom leaned against the doorframe, eyes sweeping the layout table in an attempt to swing her attention away from his evident hesistation. 

                "What are you doing?"

                "Trying to finish cataloguing this evidence, Gil." Her statement all but hinted that her objective was obvious, and a brief chuckle followed. "For the MacGregor homicide…remember?"

                "Of course." _How do you say this, Gil Grissom? How do you admit to this woman that you're the bearer of bad news…news that might not even exist if it weren't for your recruiting her into this job. This profression…she's wonderful, she talented, and she loves what she does as much as you do…but its cost her more than it ever cost you. _

                Looking at her, so dedicated to her professional life, he didn't know if he possessed the heart to tell her what he knew…the cause of it being his fault, he knew. If he hadn't been so intrigued by the corner bar, on that one night…and collided with the beautiful brunette slinking across the back hallway to the restroom…He could still recall the way she'd splayed her fingers over his chest, palm warm through the thin polo cotton. Her eyes had peered up into his, and she'd chuckled softly before asking what he was doing crawling across the dirt strewn carpet. He'd held up an evidence bag, and she'd eyed it with a blend of curiosity and intrigue in her stunning blue irises. No one had ever wanted to know as much about his work as she did, and after recovering from the initial surprise, Grissom had begun to educate the aspiring woman in the ways of his profession, eventually steering her away from the one she obviously disliked.  

                "I'm sorry, Catherine…May I speak to you for a moment?" 

                They went to the locker room at Catherine's request, that he speak while she gathered her things to go home. The fatigue from pulling a double shift was clear in her face, her eyes, the way she carried herself down the long hallway…and as she began to withdraw personal items from a tall locker, gunmetal grey door partially obscuring her from view, Grissom took that moment to collect his willpower, and breathe deep. 

                "All right, Gil- what _is _it?" She swung her legs over the nearest bench and straddled it neatly, withdrawing a pair of running shoes from beneath to exchange them with the pair of stylish leather boots upon her feet. "Spill."

                "Catherine…" _The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things…_ The rhyme ran through his head, unbidden, and he wished that what he had to say could be as harmless. _Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax…of cabbages, and kings._ "Catherine…Eddie's been…seeing someone."

                The skin around Catherine's jaw had begun to tighten at the mention of Eddie's name,  and within seconds she had dropped her boots, the resounding thumps echoing about the empty room. 

                "That _bastard_. I _knew_ he never worked later…he couldn't even pay the rent on time."

                "Cath-"

                "Grissom, _don't._" It was a warning, he knew, as the tears began to form and she blinked them away, hissing angrily through clenched teeth. Her eyes had begun to darken, intricate blood vessels framing them in a deep, blotchy crimson. "That…_bastard._ I gave him _everything_ I had. _Everything!_"

                He wanted to speak again, but chose to take her moment of silence to make a discreet exit, leaving her to vent her fury as best she could, alone. He'd never wanted to be the bearer of bad news, and once the burden was lifted…it still weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he didn't know what to do.

                Catherine found him in his office, an hour later, lying in the dark upon the leather sofa in the corner. Not asleep, she knew…the pattern of breathing indicated otherwise. She stood in the doorway, watching, until he turned his head to see her, shrouded in the light.

                "I'm sorry." He hated the way the word tasted on his tongue, bitter with the flavor of regret and remorse. It wasn't supposed to be that way…he hadn't asked to be in a position where he would have to apologize for hurting someone he'd come to regard as more than just a friend and a colleague.

                "Sorry? Gil, how long did you know?" 

                He tensed, and turned his eyes toward the Billy Bass mounted above her head, once animated mouth open and silence. 

                "A week."

                "A week? And you didn't feel like you could tell me sooner?" She never bothered to turn on the overhead lights, moving into the office to join him. Her lithe body perched easily upon the minute space his legs left at the end of the sofa, and she leaned against the low back with a heavy sigh. "_How_ did you know?"

                "A café in Henderson…Catherine, I don't want to tell you this."  
                "Why not?" She countered. "You've told me everything else. Gil…why couldn't you have told me sooner? Where did our relationship go wrong to the point where you didn't feel you could trust me?"

                "Are you angry with me, Catherine? Or Eddie?"

                "Who the hell do you think I'm angry with, Gil?" She turned away, and he'd no sooner sat up to put his hand on her arm than she recoiled, pulling away. "Don't you dare try to preach your 'I'm just the messenger' sermon. My own _husband_ doesn't find me worth his time anymore…and where does that leave me?"

                "Catherine, if Eddie can't see that you're worth more than any other woman in Vegas…he was never worth it to begin with." Her eyebrows arched, but she remained silent, hunching her slender body into the corner of the sofa.

                "We are fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance." She spoke after a moment of silence, rattling off the quote with a wistful smile which was only partially visable.  "I danced for men, Grissom. I danced for strangers, for Eddie…but even dancing wasn't good enough."   

                "He didn't leave you because your dancing wasn't good enough, Catherine."

                "Isn't that it?" She countered. "But maybe not. Because I never danced for you, Grissom…and you're leaving me anyway. If the distance between us got any wider…it would be suicide for either one of us to try and make the leap."

                "I didn't leave you."

                "Then why the space, Grissom? Why are _we _dancing away from each other?"

                "Because I love you." He said simply, pulling his glasses from his face and scrubbing vigorously at the lenses with the hem of his soft, grey cotton t-shirt. "When you're in love, it's that much harder to tell someone you know something that can hurt them more than you ever would. You know that, Catherine…you've been in love."

                Her lips had parted in shock, hands fallen into her lap  as she stared in disbelief, her very expression informing him that while she might believe him…it was going to take a great deal more than a verbal expression of love to prove his intentions.

                He brought his hands to her face, running a thumb gently over her tense jaw, tracing the contours as if to commit them to memory. 

                "Just kiss me, Grissom." She whispered in the half-light, and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek, her hand coming up to run through the salt-and-pepper streaks above his forehead. She'd always teased him about greying men being dignified and sexy…but she hadn't turned to him when she'd needed love. She'd turned to Eddie Willows, whose sole purpose in life had been to humiliate her, use her, watch her dance and turn her away. 

                He kissed her.

                And they danced for each other.

 -End


End file.
